the_power_armor_cyoafandomcom-20200216-history
Leon Theodore
=The Pilot= Leon Theodore's history prior to the Fall is not known, but he is assumed to have become a Collaborator shortly after the invasion began. He was not directly encountered by Armor Corps until after the Human-Vannai War ended, by which point he had arisen to a position of command within a remaining group of free-willed, Vannai-aligned suits referring to themselves as "The Chosen". Operating under the callsign "Flügel", Leon was first encountered by the Armor Corps coalition during their attack on Ascension Island. He lead the defense of the shipbuilding factory that had been constructed there, and while he had been unable to protect the shipyard itself, was able to drive the Armor Corps away after disabling two suits and killing a third. He was later revealed to have also orchestrated an elaborate plan to capture an Armor Corps AI using the vacant mental space of an experimental Puppet as a trap. This plan was initially successful, but the Armor Corps were able to recover the AI over the course of the battle, as well as steal the two AI that had been dispatched to carry out the capture and interrogation. One of these AI was Leliel, an experimental Support AI that Leon had created about a month prior and given the personality of a surrogate daughter. Her kidnapping filled him with an overwhelming vendetta against AC - Valkyrie in particular. Using information extracted from Leliel, Armor Corps was able to contact Flügel through a remote relay antenna located on a small island off the coast of Tunisia. Valkyrie and her AI, Othinus, used this as an opportunity to taunt Flügel, and claimed that Armor Corps had been abusing Leliel (she had been trapped in an Avatar drone but had only been questioned and was otherwise just fine, if lonely). In a rage, Flügel ordered the antenna site obliterated with a nuclear cruise missile, nearly giving away the location of The Chosen's main base in the process. Leon would appear in person before the Armor Corps at the anniversary celebration of the Battle for Chicago, held at the city of the same name. Although he recognized the famous Mark Wolfe right away, he was unaware at the time that one of the women accompanying him was the very same Valkyrie he had sworn to kill. Although intending to bide his time and wait for the second cruiser to finish construction at the rebuilt facility at Ascension Island, a second attack there by Armor Corps would see the island destroyed completely, and almost all Chosen personnel there killed with the island's volcanic collapse. This left no choice for Flügel but to carry out the attack with what resources he had. Understanding that this would most likely be the Chosen's final battle, ending either in victory or eradication, Flügel released those not ready to die for their cause and gathered those that remained, using the information gained from electronic espionage to place his troops onto the Libra colony being constructed in Earth's orbit. Upon the celebration of the station's opening, Flügel sprung his attack, capturing the station in one fell swoop. Although he intended to issue his demands with the station's population held hostage, the American Coalition and Armor Corps had already begun their counterattack, leading to a large battle in the space around Libra. Flügel would command the battle personally from his flagship, the Ode To Duty until challenged to combat by a team of Armor Corps suits. Among them was Silver Knight, who attempted to grapple with Flügel and bring the vengeance-hungry elf to trial. Unfortunately, a Phoenix Collective mercenary would use the opportunity to deal a flurry of mighty blows that would kill both Flügel and Silver Knight. As all individuals involved in the incident had cyberbrains, the only permanent damage would be the loss of their bodies. Silver Knight and Flügel's cyberbrains were recovered by Marauder, who used the opportunity to briefly talk with Flügel to try and hear him out while determining what to do with the rebel. Leon was uncooperative until Marauder informed him that what he had been told about Leleil's fate had been a lie, and that she was being taken care of by the Lacroix Foundation, after which he acquiesced to explaining his motives somewhat. His disposition worsened when Marauder then introduced Silver Knight to converse with Flügel in cyberspace. Silver Knight insisted that Flügel try and make amends with Leliel, but Flügel insisted that Leliel go on thinking he had cast her aside, believing that it would make it easier for her to move on after he was executed, and to spare her the revelation that she had been lied to and exploited by her caretakers to get back at him. After being questioned by Marauder and Silver Knight, Carcer would then sell the cyberbrain to Albrecht Ryman. Ryman would ask some questions of Leon himself, namely what happened to the piece of his mind that was lost on Ascension Island, but also two additional questions at the request of Valkyrie. Quite fed up with the questioning, Leon insisted on simply being executed, but eventually relented to answering. After getting his answers, Ryman ripped whatever other information he could from Leon's mind before destroying the cyberbrain and finally ending Leon's life. =The Suit= Purpose Made is a Medium-class power armor, standing at roughly seven feet tall. The heavily-embellished suit possesses an angelic look, combining knightly aesthetics with that of a winged messenger. The wings on the suit's back provide it a method of flight and levitation. When on the ground, the wings will close and shift over the suit's left shoulder, covering the arm like a cape and acting as a shield. The suit has several weapons at its disposal, the primary of which is Eta Carinae, a particle-edged hand-and-half sword typically used in conjunction with the shoulder-shield. Stored in the shield is Flügel 's second weapon and Eta Carinae's brother sword, Eta Argus. When both of these weapons are wielded, Flügel 's true ability as a fighter can be displayed. In spite of the pilot's preference for melee, the suit also possesses an extremely powerful ranged attack in the form of a burst of golden energy that can be fired as a beam or as an area of effect attack. Interrogations Interrogation with Carcer and Mark. Carcer strides through the corridors of the AmC battleship, Arrow Reforged, toting a rucksack over one shoulder. He'd elected to grab a lift back to earth with the triumphant Coalition vessel; partly to take a load off after the fight, but mostly because it would add some time to the journey and give him the opportunity to do what he was just about to. He makes it to the quarters he'd been assigned for the voyage, a room that was sparse but nevertheless pretty spacious considering this was a warship. Perks of his reputation, he supposed. A bunk, a desk, small washroom, even a minifridge and, opposite the desk, a metal crate. Some legacy of the doubtless hasty construction process, but just what he'd had in mind. He reaches into the backpack, pulls out the unmistakable casing of a cyberbrain and sets it down on the crate. Then he pulls out a laptop, sets it next to the brain, boots it up, then inserts one end of a cable into the laptop, jacks the other into the port on the base of the brain. Then he runs the only program installed on the laptop and a little popup window appears, notifies him that the microphone is working and then sets about rousing the brain from its stasis, a loading bar appearing in the space that he was informed should display the connected brain's avatar. This is pretty much the most ghetto way of interfacing with a cyberbrain, but Carcer was never a tech expert and he's not about to try a direct connection to his own thinkmeat, that's just asking for trouble. No, this setup should do exactly what he'd asked the ship's quartermaster for it to do when he'd slipped him a generous bribe and made the request. This is a most un-mercenary act; his job is done, finito. But all the same, he'd become rather curious about the rebel leader Flugel. The man had possessed higher standards and a far greater degree of competence than his Armor Corps foes, had been running rings around them pretty much from the start, in fact. And in the face of constant fuck-ups from his own employers, Carcer had occasionally found himself wondering why he hadn't been working for these guys. And since he'd been fortunate enough to recently come into possession of their leader, he figured he'd indulge his curiosity and try to have a little chat with the guy. At the very least he could figure out what the hell his deal was. And then maybe he'd have a talk with the other brain in his bag... He stand back up, satisfied, then grabs a beer from the minifridge, sits down on the side of the bed, and waits as the loading bar crawls upward. The program finishes loading. Several command prompts flash and die on Carcer's screen before a minimalist dialogue window opens. The input line blinks at Carcer for a few moments, before a messag appears Flügel: Is it time? Carcer: "Probably not. Actually, I think your time might've passed I'm afraid." He holds out his arms expansively, trying not to slosh beer around. Carcer: "Welcome to the first day of the rest of your life. You might want to try speaking, the microphone is keyed into you, so should the speakers." Flügel: I've no words to speak. Let me die. Carcer: "No words, huh? That'd be a change. You certainly never stopped talking before. But I couldn't help but notice, for all your rhetoric, I never really got what your deal actually was. It's strange, you always struck me as having more principles than the Armor Corps did, yet you felt like you needed to engage in open rebellion." He sips his beer. Carcer: "And for that matter you were way more competent than them too. To the point where I found myself wondering why you couldn't have hired me instead, so I was working with someone professional for a change instead of being saddled with half a team full of clowns, minimum." He shrugs. Carcer: "So, I couldn't miss the change to (heh) pick your brain, so to speak. I'd like to bear testament to you, and your thoughts. The least I could do for someone I've developed a little respect for." The line blinks for a few more moments. Flügel: I had no choice before. Then, I had no intention to stop. Even a rat will bite a cat when cornered. Carcer raises a brow. Carcer: "Gone all laconic and allegorical, huh? Well that's fine, I can work with that. You say you had no choice? It's interesting you'd say it like that; I met an AI not so long ago who told me the exact same thing. Of course, in her case it was obvious why she couldn't dissent, but what about you? What was locking you on course?" Flügel: Revenge. Carcer: "For what? It doesn't surprise me that they've done something to merit it, the AC are right bastards, but that very fact makes it kinda hard to figure out what specific terrible thing they did affected you." Flügel: Our course was set when we lost the war. My doubts where vanquished when they took my daughter. My resolve burned when they defiled her for their amusment. The Valkyrie. Bitch BitchBitchBitchBitchBitchBitchBitchBitch Carcer: "Oh yeah, that. Well, I feel it's only fair to give you that one piece of good news at least: Leliel is totally fine, I looked into it. They pulled her out, cross-examined her for information, realised she didn't know anything, told her a half-lie you'd left her with them, then suggested she go to the Lacroix foundation and find something she wanted to do with her life. No idea what she did from there, but they more or less let her loose....Theeeen they lied to you about torturing her to try and provoke a response out of you. It struck me as an exceptionally shitty thing to do, even by their standards, but I wasn't there and I don't call any shots with the AC anyway. But yeah, you can at least rest easy that she'll live on, and probably be happy." The line blinks quietly for a while. Flügel: Liar. Carcer: "Yeah, that's the natural response. I can certainly understand not wanting to hope. Still though, I've got no reason to lie. I'm not in the Armour Corps, I have no love for the Armor Corps and I think they're a menace that has far too much power and that their only saving grace is that their incompetence goes both ways. I've got no reason to lie on their behalf, and certainly no reason to make them look any better than they are. I'm also not interrogating you on their behalf, they trust me about as far as they can throw me so they'd never hand me something that sensitive. I'm not even supposed to be talking to you at all, I hooked you up for this chat for my own reasons. I promise you that I'm telling the truth about this. And as someone who prides themselves on their professionalism, my word is my bond." Flügel: I have no reason to believe you. Something like that is too pointlessly malicious to be true. Carcer laughs darkly. Carcer: "Hah! Yeah, I can see why you'd think that. But I'll have to disagree with you there. See, they thought bullshitting to you about that would get them ahead with you somehow. No, don't ask how, I don't get it either. They thought it wasn't pointless, because they thought it'd work, because they're not the sharpest shed full of tools. So you see, it's not malice, but merely stupidity. Now ask yourself: is that in line with what you'd expect from the Armour Corps? Because I know it checks out with me." Flügel: Who are you? Carcer: "Carcer Carmine. Though you would probably know me better as Marauder." Flügel: A mercenary. I can't trust a man who kills without cause. Carcer: "I don't kill without cause. I kill for whatever cause it's my job to have. There's an argument to be made that that's better than being so absolutely convinced in the righteousness of one's own beliefs as to be able to end the life of another and believe you're doing the right thing. I probably wouldn't make that argument though, I recognise that in a sane world there would be no people like me. I'm certainly not good. But I at least have cognisance of that, the lack of which is the Armor Corps entire problem. They're the perfect example of what happens to you when you think everything you do is justified by virtue of your cause. As for me, the only thing I can believe in is my professionalism. I'm willing to die upholding that, and a part of that professionalism entails being absolutely trustworthy. I've never once lied to a client or given them anything less than my best. I've criticised them a lot, but constructive input is also part of the service I provide." Flügel: Then I suppose its too much to ask for you to kill me. Carcer: "Maybe. I'm kind of mulling over what to do with you. I've gotten offers from a few people in the Armor Corps, but I'm loathe to turn you over to people to get their jollies venting on you while you're helpless. I don't think you deserve that. I'm certainly not humouring Editi's offer, I could already hear her muttering on the radio about all the torture she was planning on inflicting. Shit makes my skin crawl. Elation over a job well done is one thing, but taking joy in inflicting suffering for its own sake is the symptom of a diseased mind." Flügel: Then if you won't grant me death, at least grant me my last moments of peace. Carcer: "That's a little oxymoronic, surely. If you don't die you're going to have an eternity, not moments. First though, there's something you said that I can't leave unaddressed. You said: when you lost the war..?" Carcer leans forward, intensely curious. Carcer: "Do you mean to say you're an actual Vannai?" Flügel: Of course not. I was a human. I was part of the human group that aligned with the Vannai. Carcer: "Alright. So what led you to side with them?" Flügel: The alternative was extinction. We chose the option that left us hope. Carcer: "And yet, here we are now." Flügel: Only time would tell this was the wrong choice. Any other option was suicide, and yet not even the Vannai forsaw this outcome. At the time, Humanity bowing to become a vassal race was the best possible outcome. If it meant survival of the species, we would aid them in destroying the other 90%. Carcer: "Hm. Well, call me sentimental, but I've always had more of a spot for the people banking on the hope of possibility rather than the people thinking it all out rationally and justifying atrocities assured that doing so is perfectly acceptable because it's the sensible thing. I believe some possibilities are worth the risk of dying for. You can't tell me you don't understand that too, you opposed the Armor Corps because you simply couldn't abide them because of what they'd done. Are the two so different?" Flügel: You think we were cowards then, for making that choice. Maybe that's true, but when it comes to the survival of our species, we had to make that rational choice. Armor Corps rebelled because they were programmed to. They continue to act as programmed, even if they don't want to admit it. We had the freedom of choice. We chose poorly. Maybe choice is too much for us. After all, the slaves won. Without a higher power to guide us, self-destruction is innevitable. But Armor Corps can't be that power. Their minds are as polluted as the Puppets. Carcer shakes his head. Carcer: "No, not cowardice. Just...callousness. I admit I can't really get in the mindset of making sacrifices on a scale like that. It's part of why I'm just a gun for hire instead of trying to push some political agenda; that seems to be part and parcel of it. I'd disagree with you on humanity needing a guiding power, sounds a little too religious for my tastes, but either way it's just a philosophical argument and thus probably a waste of time. I do agree that the Armor Corps can't be allowed absolute power, they can't be trusted to run a lemonade stand. But then, who can be that power? The Vannai, who'd commit genocide? The Armor Corps, drunk on their own power? The AmC, squabbling to be on top of the pile like the nations of old? Your slimy pal Rosewater, who desires rule simply because it inflates his grotesque ego? No, I don't think there's anyone that can be trusted with that power. Hell, the desire to be a ruler should bar you from life from ever actually becoming one." Flügel: In the end, we are left with no options. The world that survived will be swallowed in chaos no matter what. Whether you sympathize with me or not makes no difference. If you have no more questions, end me or leave me to my fate. Carcer: "I guess so. It is what it is and we are where we are. And when chaos comes, I'll be there to fight it for love, justice and just a little bit of money on the side...or something like that." He smiles lightly. Carcer: "Y'know, call me sentimental, but I kind of like you. I wish we'd met under different circumstances. I'll leave you be for now, though fair warning I know someone else who might need a word. Till then, take your rest. It's been a long time coming." With that he leans over and terminates the program, disconnecting the brain. He picks the brain up, weighs it in his hand for a moment, then sets it aside, pulling the second cyberbrain he'd recovered that mission from his bag, slotting it in as he had Flugel's. Again, he sits back and waits. The screen lights up, with a loading bar. It isn't long until hundreds, thousands of lines of code rush through the screen, too fast for the regular human eye to catch, until finally, it ends simply with: Sentient Intelligence mk IV BEOWULF: Online The screen then changes, flashing a spinning symbol: a golden claw over... the ACMP symbol. Carcer raises a brow. Carcer: "Now that's interesting. Going to have to log that away for a rainy day..." Mark II: "G o o d m o r n i n g, S p y m a s t e r." The voice is distorted, resonating with a mechanical twinge to it. It doesn't sound familiar. Carcer: "Huh, weird. According to ship time it's evening, actually, but I won't hold it against you." Mark II: "I N P U T NnnNNNnnnn" The voice shortens out, a metallic shriek cutting it off as the screen display shakes until, finally, it returns to normal. This time, however, the Golden Cerberus is gone, replaced instead by some... rather weird graphics. Almost 16bit, but it’s obviously a small kid, sitting in an empty room. Mark II: "W-What happened? Oh God... please, not again... please, not this again..." Silver Knight’s voice, usually filled with daring and bravado, comes out much shakier, and somehow... younger sounding, but clear through the laptop’s speakers. Mark II: "Pally, where are you...?" Carcer clears his throat. Carcer: "Looks like she's still booting up. Or...connecting? I don't know how the software works. Anyway, sorry, but you'll have to make do with me for a few minutes." Mark II: "... I recognize that voice." Silver's voice steadies, calming down somewhat. '' '''Mark II:' "It's... Marauder, right?" Carcer grins. Carcer: "Good ear, and I'm afraid so. I know I'm not exactly a hot nurse, but this is an AmC ship, so like everything else they're in short supply around here. So you get me. Hi." Mark II: "Well, considering where I **thought** I was, it’s a vast improvement. It... wait, AmC ship? What happened? Is Libra still standing? Goddamnit, I gotta get back out there! Falcon... the rest, they need me!" Silver begins speaking more agitatedly, some of his fire returning... along with a very, very slight, familiar twinge to his voice... Mark II: "Part of me has to be operational. I just... felt this pain, somebody tearing through me... I... I died... didn’t I?" Carcer: "Whoa, whoa. Take it slowly. Libra is fine, we kicked their asses without any real difficulty. Everyone else is fine too. Well, Falcon might be worked up still, on account of what happened with you. He was pissed enough to come swinging at me over it, but you'll be glad to know I didn't return the favour, so he's still in one piece physically. You didn't die, but your suit got badly damaged, enough to hit the critical threshold that caused your cyberbrain to go into safe mode. I recovered you, and here you are, on a flight back to earth. I'm going to hand you back over to the AC once we're there and they can reunite you with your body. First though, I thought I might take the rare opportunity to have a little tete-a-tete with you. Seemed like you were getting wound up over something, and my interest was piqued." Silver audibly sighs, relaxing. Mark II: "I'm sorry about that. I... Falcon is like a brother to me. If it came down to it, I'd probably have acted the same way. I... Probably shouldn't... I probably shouldn't have tried, doing what I did. It was a stupid idea but... I had to try." Carcer: "Mmnooo, I don't think you did. Seemed more like you were trying to salve your own conscience over something. Wanna talk about it?" Mark II: "I... I thought that... If it was me, if I could only get to talk to the guy I could get him to stop. That... I could convince him to lay down arms, if not for his own sake, at least for the men under him. But they're all probably all dead by now, aren't they? And in the process, I got torn to shreds in front of someone who already had to go through it once already. I just felt I had to learn why he did all of this." Carcer: "Yeah, but you'll both live. You both have cyberbrains, it'd take something above and beyond to kill you for real. My best friend is an avowed luddite meatbag, so imagine how I feel. Anyway, on the subject of Flugel I have to say you're wrong, and if you thought you could talk him down you had a pretty fundamentally flawed understanding of the guy." Mark II: "Maybe but... I just had to try. All those lives, lost senselessly... It took a toll on me." Carcer: "I don't think they'd call it senseless. Every one of them that fought to the death did so because it was the course they decided on, for whatever warped philosophical reason. Some feel there are causes worth dying for. You can think the cause is stupid and you can think they're stupid for holding it, but you can't really pity someone for doing as they please. That's my two cents at any rate. And here's a few more: if you have to resort to inventing burdens to shoulder yourself with, it's a sign that your martyr complex is really getting outta hand." Mark II: "But they were human, Marauder. They weren't just... raving lunatics that had their brains chopped out to make space for more nanites, they were thinking, feeling human beings. That... threw their lot in with the people trying to wipe us out. It's just... having people cling to you, stare you in the eye as they die... It's very different from anything I'm used to. From anything this war made normal." Carcer: "Yeah, they did. They thought it was a price worth paying for survival and we didn't. What's more to think about? The pro-humanity block won and that group decided they'd prefer to die on that hill than reconsider their outlook. That, or they just wanted revenge, the same old story. And as for you? Well, you make your choices. If you decide you want no more part in killing it's not like anyone can knock you for it. I of course am an amoral bastard without much trouble killing people, but I recognise that's not something to aspire to." Mark II: "I want to protect people. I need to fight to keep Libra safe, to... try and keep Earth from going back to how it used to be. We have to be better. The Armor Corps needs to be better, and... I thought talking to Flugel... that understanding what led him to give up on us would help me make things right, you know? I can't help but feel that we failed the people who gave up on the Armor Corps. That... they lost hope in us." Carcer: "There's a pretty basic misunderstanding there. Flugel never gave up on the Armor Corps because he never believed in it to begin with. He sided with the aliens for the same reasons as the others, and fought the AC after losing because they beat him and he developed a vendetta. He pretty much told me so himself. That said, I have to doubt anyone who trusts in the Armor Corps at this stage. The whole shaky edifice is rotten. Even someone as optimistic as you can't say you don't know what I mean." Mark II: "I can't believe they tried to convince him they did... that, to his A.I. I'd have gone on the warpath if anyone tried to hurt Pally. Torn them to shreds..." Silver's voice changes, on the last word, before returning to normal. Mark II: "AC's never been that great but... it tries. It tries its hardest to be." Carcer: "No it doesn't," states Carcer flatly, "You try, the AC is content to rest on its laurels as king of the hill, assured that everything they do is excusable by the presumption that they're the good guys. I agree, that was fucked up. And I kill people for money." Mark II: "Even back in the day, they almost left me stranded on England for not silencing an Engineer who'd figured out Aliens were behind the whole thing." Silver, weirdly, chuckles nostalgically. Carcer: "Yeah, I always did think the way they treated you was pretty appalling considering what you're supposed to be to them." Mark II: "It's... in the job. And they got me out of a worse situation, so I can't exactly complain... But... lately it feels it's not the AC I helped build. It feels like... everyone who fought with me, who bled side by side with me holding the line is dead, dying or just... doesn't want to hold it up any more. But... that just means i gotta try harder, right? For all of us." Carcer: "Who am I to say? It never looked to me like anything good, but I'm more familiar with it as a bloated monolith throwing its weight around in lieu of anything more delicate. Perhaps it's run its course, it was never meant to administer the planet, only repel the invaders. And that's been long since done. And if it's served its purpose, maybe it needs replaced by something better. Not the AmC, they're too opportunistic and self-interested to be trusted as the sole global power. I can't tell you what should happen, I try and keep my nose out of politics precisely because it's such a goddamn mess, but I can tell you that people will support you whatever you do. You've got a lot of pull. Integrity, compassion. Things people want to see upheld. And it's always seemed to me that they've been throttled by the AC because that met with the image they wanted to present but not what they wanted to do. I don't think there's much good to be done propping up a system like that, you'll just get crushed underneath when it does inevitably collapse." Mark II: "I just wanna help. I was given this power, I was given this body and this second chance to do that, man. Silver speaks, somewhat tiredly But it just feels like from here on out, things are only gonna get harder. I... Don't know if I have it in me to fight other people when the chips inevitably come crashing down. Falcon offered me a place in Libra, a chance to end all of this but... I just couldn't, y'know? Someone's gotta keep AC going. Someone's gotta keep it honest, and make sure it's the organization people can put their trust into to defend them. I wish there was something better to replace it with. I... I just wish my friends were here. They'd know how to do it." Carcer: "Probably not," Observes Carcer, "They were only human too, after all. And it might actually do more good to dump the AC and let it topple. You can't keep it honest because they don't listen to you and don't care about you as anything but a PR stunt and it certainly can't be trusted to defend people: one of their first missions blew up a city and they've been just as hamhanded since. I get that nothing ever goes perfect, but the AC really is fucking hopeless, and if they're at the stage where their pilots have free rein to rob their own allies? Trust was never in the cards.Now look, I give you a hard time, but that's because I don't like to see a nice kid like you tear themselves apart heaping some ridiculous impossible burden on their shoulders. Take it from me, because you know I'm all about being easygoing and rational: beating yourself up over perceived failure is a indulgent exercise in self-loathing that does nobody any good, least of all you. You have got to make peace with the fact that you're not omnipotent and things won't always go the way you want them to, even if you do your best, but that that's no reason not to keep doing it. You should take a pride in what you do instead of being so overly critical." Mark II: "Maybe I do need a break. Just... some time to figure out what I'm doing. Take Mo-" Silver flusteredly cuts himself off, before clearing his throat and continuing. Mark II: "Go visit some of the planet I saved, or something." Carcer: "Yeah, if anyone's earned some vacation days it's certainly you. Take a gap year! ...Mo-who?" Mark II: "U-Uh. N-No one. Just a slip of the tongue." Carcer: "Right. Well, I'm no gossipy aunt, so I'll let that one slide. You feel a little better now?" Mark II: "Yeah. Thanks, Marauder. You know, you really are too nice for a mercenary." Carcer: "Yeah? Well, you're too nice for a member of the Armor Corps. Just because I kill people for money doesn't mean I have to be an asshole about it. In fact, my reputation for not being an asshole is what's gotten me this far." Mark II: "HAH. That's... That's probably fair to say." Carcer: "Actually, I feel like I have more integrity than most people in the Armor Corps, with a few exceptions like you. To the point where I occasionally found myself wondering why I wasn't working for Flugel, since he actually seemed to have some standards." Mark II: "...hrm." Carcer: "...Look, about Flugel...I actually have his brain here too. Just got done talking with him before I fired you up. Was how I was so sure about his motivations and outlook, I'd gotten them from the source. I know you wanted to at least talk with him before he died, and you're not likely to get a chance, so against my better judgement: do you want to see for yourself? "Fair warning though: I guarantee you're not going to like what you hear, and that's if he even deigns to speak to you at all. But if closure is what you want, maybe you can get that much. It'd make two of you..." The last sentence is muttered grimly to himself. Mark II: "Let's do it." Silver sounds extremely determined. Mark II: "I want to hear from him what he has to say in his defense." Carcer: "Okay...just don't take whatever he says too harshly." Carcer reaches over for Flugel's brain and again plugs it into the computer, which automatically patches it into the same pseudo chatroom currently occupied by Silver Knight. Then he sits back and fold his arms, intent on being no more than an impartial observer to whatever occurs between them. Bridged by the computer, Mark Wolfe's consciousness bleeds over into Flugel's memory palace. He 'wakes up' on a beach; a black ocean lapping against a pure white shore of sand. He sees a man in the distance lying on the ground, arms and legs spread out, staring at a grey sky. Mark II: "Argh..." Mark clutches his head, trying to make heads or tails of the sudden change in situation. At the very least, the feeling of having legs again was great. He starts walking forward, looking around in confusion. The man gives no indication of being aware of Mark's presence as he approaches. He would quickly recognize him as being the elf from the Chicago party, albeit in much simpler clothing. Mark II: "Hello?" Mark himself looks different. Gone are his heroic build, albino looks and towering height; now, he's a scrawny, dark skinned boy with black, messy hair and piercing blue eyes, wearing a pair of ripped jeans and a black leather jacket. Flügel: "...Weak executioner." The man mutters, almost low enough for Mark to miss it. Mark II: "... excuse you?" Flügel: "If being constantly pestered like an animal in a zoo is my punishment, its a cruel and unusual one at worst, and pathetic at best. Go away." Flugel continues to lay where he is, not even sparing Mark a glance. Mark II: "Make me." Silver's response comes rushed, obviously with him not even having thought the words. He stops, sighing. Mark II: "Look... I'm stuck in the same situation as you are for the moment. I ain't too happy 'bout that either, but what are we s'pposed to do?" Flügel: "That is entirely your fault." Mark II: "Look who's talkin', Mister Hurr-I'mma-Fight-AC!" Silver points an accusatory finger. Mark II: "We could have stopped all of this if you'd just stopped and thought about what you were doin'! Granted, that probably applies to me too, so we're both knuckleheads, now ironically without heads." Flügel: "You didn't leave me much of a choice." Mark II: "You could have surrendered." Silver's tone is... somewhat mournful. Like he has something to apologize for. Flügel: "I don't recall that option being offered to anyone on Ascension when you destroyed the island." Mark II: "That wasn't my idea. And even then, you weren't there for me to try." Silver shakes his head. Mark II: "I thought if only I could have gotten through to you there, that if I could have beaten you there, we'd have avoided all of this." Flügel: "So I'm the only one that gets mercy? Why?" Mark II: "Because you were their leader! Because you had the authority to make them stop! Because they'd have listened to you! If I could force you to make them surrender, none of them would have had to die. I saw your men show, over and fuckin' over, that they had guts. That they were loyal, that they were willin' to go the distance and walk the walk." Flügel: "They followed me because I gave them what they wanted, and what they wanted was a target for their anguish. But those were soldiers. Did you ever spare a thought to the scientists and engineers under the mountain when it blew? Of course you didn't. You just wanted the glory of the kill. But I can't hold that against you personally. It's in your blood after all. Or in your case, was." Mark II: "You're gonna hafta do better'n that if you wanna get me riled up." Silver glares at the elf, fists clenched. Mark II: "You started this goddamn fight. You don't get to claim the high fuckin' horse when you put those people in risk in the first place. And why? Why... all of this, huh?" Silver raises his arms. Mark II: "Why abandon the Corps, why throw your lot in with the people tryin' to kill you?!" Flügel: "I was never on your side." The Elf frowns, still staring at the sky. Flügel: "It was the hope of those you would come to call "the traitors" that the Vannai would spare part of the population rather than exterminate us all. To us, you were the traitors, putting all of humanity at risk with your rebellion." Mark II: ". . ." Silver's eyes open up in disbelief. And then, he grits his teeth. His fists clench, his knuckles becoming white. Mark II: "So that whole thing about you doing this for 'revenge'..." He spits out the last word. Flügel: "Was for the future you robbed us of with your victory. Although by the end, I had my own reasons as well. All those who'd fallen to your purges after the war had ended. People wanted vengeance and safety, not to worry about being hunted to the end of their days." Mark II: "... Purges?" Silver's fire almost instantly disappears, as he looks at Flugel with confusion in his eyes. Flügel: "Purges." The elf repeats the word, continuing to frown. '' '''Flügel:' "What did you think the first attack on Ascension was? What do you think every operation that Armor Corps has carried out over the past year has been? The nanomachines in your people's blood wasn't designed to let you give up hope. Now that you've won, you'll never stop fighting. You'll always look for some other enemy to crush. When you run out of traitors to put down, you'll burn nations instead." Mark II: "You were... building ships to strike at Libra. That's why we first struck against the island. The war is over but... traitors are still making plans to fight back. They won't back down." Flugel shrugs where he lies, going silent again. Mark II: "... why were you building in Ascension Island? More importantly... what?" Flügel: "I guess we'll never know." Mark II: "Goddamnit, you douchebag, you can't fuckin' leave me hangin' like that!" Flügel: "You think I owe you an answer?" Mark II: "Do you have anything better to do than mope here in self loathin'?" Flügel: "No." Mark II: "Or are you just gonna sit there like a pouty fuckin' kid for what remains of eternity? If there were purges, if there were no chances for you and your men to surrender... I want to bring people to task for it. The war was over. Who started it all over again is what I'm here to know." The elf considers his reply. Flügel: "It's not that we were refused an opportunity to surrender; more that there was no confidence that a request would be honoured based off past experiences with Armor Corps. The Puppets are one matter, but our only crime was making the wrong of two hard choices. You'd have made the same decision, had the Vannai not decided your fate for you. The elf brings his hand behind his head and adjusts himself into a slightly more comfortable position on the sand. Flügel: "Oblivion would be a blessing for me. I've lost everything now, and can only look forward to whatever you people have planned for me at this point." Mark II: "The only thing there is is a trial for your crimes against Humanity. And then you getting locked in here for a very, very long time." Silver sighs. Then, his ears perk up, and he smiles as he thinks of something. Flügel: "But... you don't have to be alone here... Your AI. She's still around. And she... didn't go through what Valkyrie told you she did." Mark sees Flugel's jaw clench, and he finally turns his head to look at him. Flügel: "The man from earlier said as much. If what you said is true, and that she was told that I had abandoned her...it would be best for her to continue living on hating me. Her trust belongs to someone else now. I can't take that from her again for my own selfishness." Mark II: "Someone who took advantage of her! For fuck's sake, are you ever not going to take the easy way out?! Silver throws his arms up, walking back and forth, obviously worked up. Mark II: "If someone told me they'd hurt my A.I., I'd have moved heaven or hell to find her! But you... You just fuckin' give up! You gave up on humanity before there was a chance to fight! You gave up on finding peace because you didn't know if it'd work out for you! For once in your fucking life take a goddamn stand for something!" Flugel gives Mark an icy glare. The ocean suddenly stops, leaving the scene eerily quiet as he slowly stands to his feet. Flügel: "Everything I've done, everything in these past five years, was done for the greater good. For someone else's sake. I gave up everything, even my life, because I thought that doing so served a greater purpose. Leliel's creation was my one indulgence, and it's brought only more suffering on the world. Her suffering. I won't take the self-serving route. I never have. She needs stability, even if that stability is based off a lie. If we were to meet again, if you were to tell her that everything she knows about the world as she's seen it these past few months was based off a cruel attack on my emotions, she won't trust anyone ever again. Not me, not you. No one. That is my stand. Don't twist the poor girl any more than you devils already have." Silver holds Flugel's stare, a fire raging in his eyes. Even despite the size difference, the boy refuses to back down. Mark II: "No. Everything you did you did because it was easy. You decided you'd rather see mankind serving some outer space punks after they'd already bruised our noses because it was easier than fighting them. You decided not to try and find peace with the Armor Corps because it was hard to find terms of peace." Silver takes a step forward, undaunted. Mark II: "And now, you'd rather sit here, pouting and brooding like a coward because it's easier than to try and repair your relationship with Leliel?! You won't even fight to see her again?!" Flügel: "Don't lecture me, you simulacrum." Flugel says the words darkly, red eyes staring murderously into Mark's. Flügel: "I'll not be taking life lessons from the Armor Corps' wind-up toy solider! The harder choice isn't always the better one. You idiot. You goddamn fool. The truth doesn't always need to be known. Increasing the pain doesn't make the outcome better. If a lie makes the most people happy, if it makes the only person I care about in this blasted world happy, then so be it. Now leave! Whatever torture awaits me would be less a hell than having to abide your presence any longer." The punch comes fast, and hard, cutting sharply through the air as Mark’s fist connects with Flügel’s nose, the younger pilot having had to jump to get enough force behind it. Mark II: “When I learned that I’d lost three weeks of my life that I could have spent helping the world fight, I didn’t give up.” Silver glares daggers at Flügel, as he shakes his shoulders to shake his leather jacket off. Mark II: “When I learned NYC was gone, and my family with it, I didn’t give up.” Silver raises his fists, into a guard. “When I died to one of my own friends, and they had to stitch me back together, I didn’t. Give. Up. Reuniting with Leliel will not be easy for you or her, but to hear that you’d rather let her live believing you hate her, to hear that you’ve given up... I can’t accept that. For the sake of the Chosen that followed you to the end, for the sake of that A.I. who believed in you, I will not accept that Flügel is a mopey, self-loathing coward who would rather self flagellate in some fuckin’ messiah complex. A wise man told me... playing the self-blame game is gonna take you nowhere fast.” Mark hits Flugel, but he seems to absorb the blow, his face shifting slightly from the impact, but his eyes remaining locked on Mark's, filled with roused hatred. Well, it is his memory palace after all. The grey sky darkens to black. The white sand turns to ash beneath your feet. The black sea runs red as blood. Flugels next words come quivering with anger. Flügel: "You have a very high opinion of yourself for a dead man. To come here, into my world, and tell me I'm living my life incorrectly. After taking everything else from me, you can't even grant me that last request?" After a moment, the elf takes a step back, and then another. The oppressive atmosphere recedes to as it was before. After a few more paces, he turns, lingering only to give Mark one more look. Flügel: "You disgust me," He spits the words out before walking off down the shoreline. Flügel: "Go away." Back in the real world, Carcer sits up. Carcer: "Okay you two, I think this has gone about as far as it's ever going to. Ship's nearly landed anyway." He leans over the laptop, clicks a few options on the program window to disengage the link and switch the two brains back into sleep mode, then stuffs the whole caboodle back into the rucksack, which he slings over his shoulder as he turns to leave, headed for his suit to begin the flight to AC HQ to return the brain of Silver Knight to them; presumably once their own ship gets back from space with the rest of his body they'll be able to staple it back together without much trouble. As for the other brain...well, jury's still out on that one. He's certainly been given a lot to think about on that front. He moseys down the hall, whistling tunelessly to himself. Interrogation with Ryman and Rymaid. Ryman sat at a bare metal table, in an otherwise empty room. It wasn't real, of course. The room was too bright, too white, and too quiet. Every taste, every sight, every feeling had a thin film of unreality. Things were a little too something. A symptom of an artificial approach, he supposed. If nothing else had, the fact that his suit fit would've tipped him off to the fake-ness of the rather small world he'd built.'' He'd done his best while designing the room, but he'd had to skimp on some detail. The door that led 'outside' would drop you off into another empty room, this one nothing more than an unlit broom cupboard. He'd only put it there so he had somewhere to appear out of, after all. '' ''The bare bulb hanging from the ceiling rocked back and forth gently, and caught his attention. Briefly glancing upwards, he cursed his own attentiveness and looked back down. Rapidly blinking as though it would clear the afterimage any faster, he wondered what phantom force might be causing any movement whatsoever, and why his sunglasses didn't seem to do much. '''Rymaid: "Testing?" The white panels on the walls shook as Meido's voice reverberated around the room. Rymaid: "Can you hear me?" Ryman: "Loud and clear. Too loud, actually, turn it down." Ryman stretched his arms. Ryman: "I take it that you're ready?" He stood up before a response could be offered, sliding the chair under the table. Rymaid: "Yeah. Everything's hooked up. If we're right, we'll have everything we need." The door to the broom cupboard creaked as he closed it behind himself. He could still see the bulb's filament. Moreso, now he was in the dark. Ryman: "That's a big 'if'." Rymaid: "Please, this isn't my first time fucking with cyberbrains, have some faith." Ryman: "No." Ryman straightened his tie. He needed to look presentable, after all. Ryman: "The partition drive is ready?" Rymaid: "Should be." In realspace, Meido tapped the still spinning hard drive, which whined a little louder in protest. Rymaid: "Ready. If this works, anything he pulls up should get filtered through there. I'm not sure, but it should be unencrypted." He sighs. Rymaid: "But we'd be lucky to get it in a usable format." Ryman: "Alright." Ryman slips in the earpiece, leaving the wire to trail down pointlessly into his suit. Ryman: "Bring him in." The lightbulb flickers briefly, and in that microsecond of simulated light vacating the room, a guest is brought in its place. The man blinks, then around, looking somewhat annoyed and confused. Rymaid: Alright, he's in, do whatever. Just get him to talk." Medio's voice was now confined to the little earpiece, in the interest of security. Plus, it gave it an actual function, rather than being purely cosmetic. The door from the broom cupboard opened, again with a creak, and Ryman strode into the room. He pushed the door shut with his heel behind him, and dragged the chair out, screeching as it was dragged along the tile floor. Slowly, but confidently, Ryman sat down, dragging the chair back under the table at which he'd sat seconds earlier. Ryman produced a thick green folder from... somewhere, and dropped it on the table. He glared at Flugel, briefly, and opened the folder. It may have looked like it was full, but it actually only had 3 pages. The rest were only one 'object', but it didn't matter. The folder was a prop. Rifling through the pages and perusing their 'contents', he began idly speaking, as though to no-one in particular. Ryman: "As you can see, we've had our eye on you for... some time now, Mister..." Ryman glanced upwards again. Ryman: "Mister Flugel." Flugel tilts his head at the green folder before looking up at Ryman. Flügel: "Yes, that seems to be the case. Though, I'm surprised you'd continue with my alias rather than my real name." Ryman clears his throat... Then begins coughing. Really unconvincingly. Into his lapel. Ryman: "What's this guy's name again?" cough cough Rymaid: "Leon." cough cough Ryman: "Gotcha." Ryman continued his coughing fit a little longer. Ryman: "Ah- echk - Excuse me, don't know what came over me." He straightened his tie again. Professionals did that, right? Ryman: "Well, we assume that given that's what you went by for some time, Leon, that it might be your... preference." Flügel: "That's the name I went by as leader of the "traitors". Since they're all gone, I'd prefer that title die with them." Ryman: "Very well." Ryman closes the folder. Ryman: "So, I suppose you can guess why you were brought here?" Flügel: "Yes, I can. You people sure do love to talk after you've slaughtered all resistance." Ryman: "Some of us do. It's not my way, which is probably why you haven't recognized me yet." Ryman smirked. Ryman: "That's not what I meant though. You know what questions I have to ask you." Flügel: "Then get on with it." The elf frowns. Ryman returns a frown of his own. Secretly, he'd been hoping that what he assumed was a guilty conscience would offer something up. Next tactic was... Ryman: "Why'd you do it, Leon?" He leaned back, took off the shades, and lay them down carefully on the table. Ryman: "Why'd you do it? What's the motive here?" The elf - Flugel or Leon or whatever, sighs and looks up at the the hanging lightbulb for a moment. Flügel: "You're asking why I worked against the Armor Corps? Because its a regime run by thugs no less under the leash of the Vannai than the Puppets are. Among those I lead, some of them felt they had a moral duty to prevent Armor Corps from running the world. Many others just wanted revenge for being forced onto the wrong side of history." Ryman shrugs. Ryman: "A reasonably argument on the face of it. Working against AC on the basis of... fighting for freedom is one thing." He hunches forward. Ryman: "You worked with the Vannai, though, didn't you? Perhaps not directly..." Flügel: "It would be more accurate to say we were tolerated. We had the cooperation of the Puppets, but of the Vannai themselves, I knew of no communication with them." Ryman: "Tolerated? Perhaps... That's the part that gets me though. Why work with the Vannai? Not working with AC... understandable." On one hand, he was an AC pilot, on the other, he wasn't blind. Ryman: "But working against humanity?" Flügel: "The hope was that we would continue to be tolerated after the war was over, rather than resist and be exterminated. The odds were against an Armor Corps victory. Collaboration was the logical choice, even if it was an unpleasant one. Ryman: "Is survival not preferable to extinction? Er, shit. Submission?" Flügel: "The odds were against an Armor Corps victory." Ryman: "Logically, no, they weren't." Ryman pushes the folder to one side. Ryman: "The Vannai were spectacularly incapable of fighting a war. Frankly, I'm amazed they managed long enough to find us." The elf shrugs. Flügel: "I'm not here to convince you of anything." Ryman: "Perhaps not. I'm here not to convince or be convinced, that time has past, I am merely here to learn. What gave you this impression that AC would be defeated? Was there no turning point? What kept you fighting?" The elf licked his lips, staring over Ryman's shoulder. Flügel: "The resistance stock was intended to fight, but not win. They were massively outnumbered and very far behind in tech. The rest of the human population had been pacified and were gradually being exterminated. By the time the tide turned, we had too much blood on our hands to simply lay down arms and wait for execution. We still had hope that the Armor Corps would collapse on itself, or the Vannai would reveal themselves with some secret weapon in hand and finally put an end to the war and lead what was left of humanity into a golden age." Flugel puts his elbows on the table and claps his hands together. Flügel: "And yet, here we are." Ryman moves himself back into Flugel's line of sight. Ryman: "So... you had nothing? No hidden bases, no secret plans, no tech that was going to win you the war? You pinned your lives on the hope that something else would save you. That the aliens trying to drive us all to extinction were going to return and make your life bliss? Alright." He rubs the bridge of his nose. Ryman: "Quick fire questions round. Question one: You ever met... this guy?" Ryman produces a small dossier from the larger folder. Everything that Valkyrie had sent to him, in regards to the other traitor. Ryman: "Ever worked with him?" Flügel: "After the Vannai mothership was destroyed, our goal changed to diminishing the Armor Corps in any way we could. The attack in Libra was intended to force your coalition to disband. It was a last-ditch effort and it failed." The elf briefly looks the photo over. Flügel: "Is this person alive or dead?" Ryman smiles. Ryman: "Answer my question." Leon gives Ryman a cold look. Flügel: "I never worked with him." Ryman: "Answer my question. In full." Flügel: "I'm a bit tired from all these questions. The near-death experience has left my mind a little fuzzy." Ryman huffed. Ryman: "I have at least four more questions to go. I'd offer you a coffee, but you might well figure out how to kill yourself with it. I could threaten you?" Flügel: "With what? Death?" The elf gives a small laugh. Flügel: "Take that as your answer then, and move on." Ryman: "So you've met him?" Ryman chuckles. Ryman: "I'll take that as an answer, but if you think death is the worst that I can offer, you obviously don't know who I am. Worst comes to pass, I know Tommy and Editi." He stares at Flugel for a bit, letting that linger. Ryman: "Next question. Did you put Leliel's return point in a minefield on purpose?" Flügel: "I know them too. You're quite the collection of devils." His frown returns at the mention of the AI. Flügel: "Now why would you want to know about that?" Ryman: "Sating curiosity." He tilts his head again, not looking for a second like he believes Ryman, and takes a moment to consider his answer. Flügel: "Yes, it was on purpose. The relay antenna needed to be defended from scavengers. Leliel didn't have a body, and in the event she was captured, anyone she gave the coordinates to wasn't likely to send her to the antenna herself. And if they did, it would have been in an avatar, which would be capable of surviving an antipersonnel mine with its intelligence intact. In that unlikely scenario, recovering her afterwards would have left the whole series of events nothing more than a bad dream." Ryman nods. Ryman: "In the spirit of cooperation, I actually have no idea why I needed to ask you that. Sating curiosity was my best guess. Next question, which I'll preface with a statement: Rosewater is a slimy piece of shit no matter how you cut it, and if you think AC is bad, one glance at him'd tell you he's probably worse. So, do you know of anything that would incriminate him?" Leon snorts. Flügel: "Now, that's a surprise. I can't say I'm much a fan of his either, but if you plan on headhunting him next, know it won't be easy." The elf looks away, thinking. Flügel: "I can give testimate to him helping my group with supplies and equipment, but proving it will be the real challenge. I sought to break ties with him after I found out he'd introduced some kind of drug to my men; Glory, they called it. I already despised the man, but when I found out he was exploiting my people's will to fight by giving them experimental, lethal combat drugs, I wanted nothing to do with him. Predictably, he betrayed me and left us to fight to the death in space. If he hadn't, I like to think we might have gotten what we wanted. But apparently, he's not interested in seeing AC banished; not yet, at least. Just as likely, he never thought we could win in the first place and dropped us when he saw the best opportunity to do so." Flugel looks back at Ryman. Flügel: "I suppose your hopes went up in flames with Ascension, just as ours did. I'll leave eliminating him in your hands; its what you people do best, after all." Ryman: "Glory... the yellow schisse? We lost a guy to that stuff. Glad to see we're on the same page on him. So, there's no other physical evidence left?" Flügel: "We...had another facility. Abandoned after we lost Ascension. A small base on an island in Newfoundland. Most data there would have been wiped, but maybe you can find something there you can use against him." Ryman: "Mhm... thank you, that will be most useful." Ryman passes him a piece of paper and a pen. Unnecessary, he hoped. After all, just thinking about the base should call up all the information that Ryman'd need to find it. Hopefully. '''Ryman:' "Just write down the co-ordinates or any other sort of directions down, if you would. And then... hmm. Any other bases? Supply caches? Anything that could - Even tangentially - Link Rosewater to your operations?" Flugel ignores the sheet of paper. Flügel: "There is nothing else. I'll leave you to find it." Ryman: "Nothing else?" Flügel: "Nothing else." Ryman: "Very well." Ryman stands up, pushing the chair back under the table. Ryman: "I suppose you'll be wanting to die now?" His eyes glaze over for a second. Ryman: "Wait... you weren't..." He shakes his head. Ryman: "No, you were!" Ryman stalks his way around the table, standing just behind Flugel's right. Ryman: "What did you do with my defence maze? I still cannot comprehend the concept of gouda and it's starting to frustrate me." Leon, who had been considering his answer to the previous question, blinks at Ryman's advance and sudden change in behaviour. His reply is slow at first, but becomes slightly smug as he realizes what Ryman is talking about. Flügel: "Ah...yes, the cheese wedge. That was quite a stroke of luck for us, even if I paid a heavy price for it. We used your Defense Maze as a core file reference for an AI, which we used to gain control of the space station. The result was highly unstable, so we had another AI created to mind it. They were both instrumental in our plan. I can't be sure where the second one might have gotten off to, but I can only assume they're both dead now." Ryman leans in closer. Ryman: "They were in a weird glowy box, weren't they?" Leon nods. Flügel: "In order to reduce avenues of interception, we created a physical vessel for it and connected it directly to the central computer." Ryman briefly contemplates headbutting Leon, before he realizes that it probably wouldn't do anything. Ryman: "Well... shisse. It's dead. You dick." Flügel: "I'm not the one that killed it." Ryman: "No, but you did steal my ability to enjoy the taste of cheddar, so you're a dick for that. In the spirit of the setting, I suppose I could just invent a taste..." Ryman sighs listlessly. Ryman: "Anyway." He paces back around to the other side of the table. Ryman: "Have you decided on whether or not you want to die?" Leon snorts again. Flügel: "You're leaving it up to me to decide?" Ryman: "Of course. Bodily autonomy is important. That being said, at best you'd be left on my shelf till one or the both of us die, unless I can imagine some use for you." Flügel: "And I shudder to think what your imagination is capable of." Flugel's eyes go hard. Flügel: "I'm not without regrets, but I knew the risks when I launched the final attack. I would have liked to get my revenge on Valkyrie, break the Armor Corps and guide humanity away from letting extortionists like Rosewater take control in their stead. I would have liked to see Leliel be happy, and grow up like a real girl." He shakes his head. Flügel: "What's done is done. Take your justice and put an end to this pitiful role of mine." Ryman: "Is submission not preferable to extinction?" Ryman smirks. "I only wanted you to die a hypocrite, my friend. When you get to hell, tell my father I miss him. Meido! Close the partition, and microwave this dumb fuck, we're done." And like that, the entire world ceased to be. Category:PACYOA: TE Category:The Chosen Category:NPC Category:Medium Category:Deceased